


Lighting the Dark

by GatewayGirl



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatewayGirl/pseuds/GatewayGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus rids the world of some baggage</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lighting the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: A Remus ficlet written for McKay, but Sirius sneaked in anyway.
> 
> Rated for willful destruction ;-)

The victory celebration was over, and Remus felt as empty as the house around him. Everyone else had already left, gone back to lives that were safer with Voldemort gone, and he was left alone, trying to summon the energy to step outside. He stared down at the grate in front of him. In it, ashen coals lay cold, and the shreds of their smoke tasted stale and sour where they slipped inside his head like ghostly snakes. Just that afternoon, he had crouched here with Harry, who was trying to coax up the low flames while they waited for other arrivals.

"You can have the house, if you like," Harry had offered, his uncertain smile showing that he knew the gift would be less than welcome.

"I don't want to live here."

Harry had nodded with something like relief. "Know what you mean -- I never want to see this place again." A scowl of loathing -- the sort of expression that made Harry more frightening than James had ever been -- had tightened his youthful features as he straightened. "Someone could burn it to the ground, for all I care."

Molly had paused by Remus, and her face had glowed with affectionate as she watched Harry stride away.

"He'll change his mind," she had confided with a smile. "People need their past."

Now that he was alone, Remus shook his head. This empty house was the past, and no one needed it. He hoped that Harry never changed his mind. He'd seen the young man here, unwillingly haunting the mouldering rooms between dangerous forays, his gaze lingering wistfully on all the things that Sirius had hated. A year of that would suck out his soul as surely as a Dementor's Kiss.

Remus had to leave, while he remembered that for himself. The lure of safety was strong. His Gringotts vault now held a medal, and some galleons that had come with it, but Voldemort's defeat had not improved the lot of werewolves in general -- especially as many had sided with him. A roof over his head -- not to mention a defensible home -- was a strong enticement. It would be practical to accept it. Hadn't he lived in worse places?

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of shining eyes and shaggy black fur and whirled. There was nothing there. After a moment, he decided it must have been the gaslights reflecting in the window above the fringed lampshade.

"Either that, or Padfoot is telling me not to be an idiot." His immobility broken, Remus stepped quickly out into front hallway. Resolutely, he reached out his hand and lifted the curtain from the painting of old Mrs. Black. Like a waking raven, she expanded and settled before her mouth distended to spew out familiar words.

_"Filth! Vile, bastard freak of unnatural unions! Creature of dirt, wallowing in vileness!" _

Remus smiled idly below the barrage of insults. "We won, you know," he said mildly when the old woman paused for breath. "And _both_ of your sons helped."

_"Abominations! _Disgracing the name of Black!" Her raucous screech descended suddenly to a hiss. _"But don't think I don't know who led him to it. You -- you and gutter friends -- corrupting decent pureblood boys --"_

"Shut up." His amusement fled, stripping him to old grief, and the old hag cackled in triumph.

_"-- you dirty nothings --"_

He would not stay. He'd live on the street rather than stay, and Harry was _never_ coming back here. Harry must _not_ relent, and return here, and be twisted by this horrible woman, by this evil place, by memories of broken things. With thoughts of Harry came harsh words echoing in his head. _Someone could burn it to the ground, for all I care._ Remus drew his wand.

Something in his smile made old Mrs. Black falter. She coughed. _"You can't threaten me!" _Her confidence grew. _"Your motley pack of blood-traitors and mudbloods has tried every --"_

"Burn."

It wasn't a proper incantation. Sometimes, when the circumstances were right, spells worked anyway. The gilt of her frame cracked and peeled back as the wood beneath it ignited. She shrieked. Remus watched the paint of her dark clothes blister. He might have relented had her screams stayed frightened, but she resumed her cursing, and he turned away, satisfaction overriding guilt, before the roiling destruction reached her flesh. Her voice was drown out by the growing crackling before he reached the mold-green carpet of the drawing room. He set his wand to the tatty old tapestry.

"Burn."

Delight was growing in him with every curl and clatter and hiss. He could imagine how Sirius, young and bold, would have loved it; how he would have laughed in savage triumph. Remus smiled. He went on to the dining room, through a light haze of smoke, and set fire to the drapes. Damn the past! _No one _was living here ever again.

From the front hall, Remus heard the ponderous crash of a falling beam. The house shook. Gaslights flared and settled again as the spells protecting them weakened, but held. He whirled and looked back.

The house was burning. _Of course it's burning you dolt! You set it on fire._ In addition to the light smoke that filled the room, thicker, darker masses were flowing in along the floor, rising to coil about his knees. The spells that protected the gas lines from explosions strained and wavered, leaving visible shimmers in the air around the thin pipes to the lamps.

"Well, I have done it this time, haven't I?"

Remus couldn't muster an iota of regret. Indeed, he felt lightened by the growing destruction -- freed from this rotting heap of the past. He worried for a moment about the rest of the street, but concluded that the spell that isolated the property should last long enough to contain the damage. With arcing sweeps of his wand, he checked for anyone who might have lingered unseen, and confirmed he was the only living soul in the burning building. Between growing coughs, he managed the incantation to banish the glass from the window above the garden, but the struggle for breath couldn't keep him from smiling, nor could the flare of flames as the oxygen-rich air swept in and added fuel to the clean fire. He jumped down into the weeds, took one gulping breath of the comparatively fresh air, and lurched for the street and the wide, free world outside.

Remus cleared the corner of the house. Hard ground thumped beneath his feet as he jumped a fallen urn onto his wavering shadow, and he couldn't keep from wasting valuable breath on laughter, as if he were fleeing the fallout of a schoolboy prank. At his heels, he could swear he glimpsed Padfoot running with him, but perhaps it was the Grim -- he supposed it all depended on how fast he could run.


End file.
